


It Wasn't Supposed to Happen Like This

by TellItToTheRain



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2020-12-26 23:48:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21109187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TellItToTheRain/pseuds/TellItToTheRain
Summary: Clarke wants a little Easy A-style revenge when Finn shows up to a party uninvited. Nothing was ever supposed to really happen with Bellamy. Not sex, not a relationship, definitely not a baby. So how did they end up here?





	1. Chapter 1

Bellamy hated O’s parties. He was only twenty-six, but these parties made him feel forty. His little sister was only twenty-one and she still believed that any party worth throwing had loud music, a big crowd, and more booze than any of them could drink in a month. Drunk undergrads puking in the toilets was not his idea of a party, but if he was being honest, he didn’t have anywhere better to be on Halloween. If he wasn’t here, he would be working, and he’d probably end up here anyway when someone inevitably called the cops to break up the party. Miller, who he would ordinarily bring to this sort of thing for moral support, pulled the short straw and would end up spending the night chasing down drunk college students in questionable costumes.

O was busy flitting about the party, doing shots and showing off her costume, some Wonder Woman outfit, which frankly, was a little more revealing than he would have hoped. Monty and Jasper were in the corner smoking something that he, a cop, definitely should not be seeing them smoke. He was just in the middle of looking for a certain blonde, when she popped up right in front of him. Clarke put one hand on his arm and got up on her tiptoes to whisper n his ear. Purely as a reflex, or at least that’s what he told himself, he put one hand on her back to steady her and leaned his head down.

“Want to piss off Finn?” she asked. Bellamy grinned.

“Always.”

“Excellent. I’m going to my room. Wait five seconds and then follow me in.” Bellamy didn’t entirely understand what was happening, but he nodded anyway. She got down off of her toes, trailing one hand down Bellamy’s chest as she did so. Clarke looked over her shoulder once, then walked to her bedroom. She threw him one last look that could definitely be described as flirtatious as she opened the door and then closed it behind her. It wasn’t until Bellamy noticed Finn across the room that it all clicked into place. Spacewalker had had the audacity to show up to the party with his girlfriend, but was still staring right past her at Clarke. He looked livid. Clarke had clearly wanted him to see that exchange with Bellamy. He excused himself, then started to head towards Clarke’s door, but Bellamy beat him to it. He threw one last look over his shoulder for dramatic effect, just like Clarke had, before he went in. Finn froze dead in his tracks, and the girlfriend had definitely noticed where he was headed.

Inside the bedroom, Clarke was sitting in her desk chair on the opposite side of the room, shoes kicked off, feet propped up on the bed.

“Did it work?” she asked.

“Well, he definitely noticed,” Bellamy replied. “So, what’s the idea here, revenge sex? Because I’m flattered Princess, but not really interested.”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself,” she said, “just the appearance of revenge sex, and you’re the one person in this world that would piss Finn off the most.”

“Hmmm. Can’t argue with that I guess.” Finn hated Bellamy almost as much as Bellamy hated Finn.

There was a knock on the door.

“Clarke,” a voice called out, “are you in there?”

“_Go away, Finn_,” she yelled, “I’m busy,”

“I just want to talk,” Finn claimed, as the handle on the door turned, and it started to creak open. Bellamy shot out a hand to keep the door closed. He flicked the lock. “Not a great time, Spacewalker,” he said.

“Really, Clarke, him?”

“_Fuck off, Finn!_”

At this, Clarke got up and moved across the room. She hopped up on the dresser that sitting against the same wall the door was on. She motioned for Bellamy to come closer.

“What do you say we sell it?” she whispered. Bellamy was shocked that Clarke, princess that she was, wanted it to take it this far, but he knew exactly what she was asking for. They were always in sync, even with weird shit like this. He nodded. He moved all the way up to the edge of the dresser and the two started to… well, rhythmically rock against the dresser enough that Finn could definitely hear it through the door. Clarke wrapped her legs around him and threw her arms around his shoulders. For balance, he put one hand on the small of her back and one hand on the dresser. Each of them was looking over the other’s shoulders. Eye contact would just make the whole thing even weirder. It was definitely awkward, but a little funny, and Finn’s anger would be worth the discomfort. The whole thing was not even close to sexy, but it seemed to convince Spacewalker. “_Oh come on_,” they could hear him say to himself as he kicked the door and walked off.

As Finn’s footsteps receded down the hallway, they stopped. Bellamy pulled back a little, but Clarke’s legs were still wrapped loosely around his waist, her arms still tossed over his shoulders.

“Well, that went… well, I guess?” Bellamy said, half a question. Clarke snorted and turned her face to look at him. For a moment they were completely still. Her eyes were piercing green, and for the first time, he noticed how really close together they were. He started breathing just a little bit faster. He was acutely aware of the fact that her face was mere inches from his face. Clarke was tense.She looked almost ready to leap off the dresser, and Bellamy swore he could feel her breathing a little bit faster too.

“So, give it a couple minutes and then get back to the party?” she asked.

“Wow, a whole two minutes,” he replied, stepping back and disentangling their limbs.

“Oh, I’m sorry. How long exactly does the fake quickie in the middle of a Halloween party have to last to satisfy your ego?”

“Longer than two minutes.”

“Okay, fine. We’ll just hang out in here for a little while.”

“What are you supposed to be, anyway?” Bellamy asked her. Clarke was just wearing some jeans and a sweater. It was cute, but definitely not a Halloween costume.

“Person who didn’t want to host this damn party,” she said. Clarke sighed. “I don’t know. I think I’ve got some cat ears or something around somewhere. What are you supposed to be?”

“Person who didn’t want to come to this damn party.”

“So why did you? You hate these things.” Bellamy rarely hid his displeasure when Octavia invited him to a supposedly small party that ended up being more of a rager.

“O wanted me here, so I’m here,” he told her. Bellamy sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Sounds about right,” Clarke said.

“So, why didn’t you want to be here? Spacewalker keeping you down?”

“No. Well, a little,” she admitted, “I was hoping he wouldn’t show, but mostly I’m just too old for this shit. I mean, who even are half these people, and why are we letting them trash our house?” Bellamy snorted. Octavia was still only a junior, but Clarke had graduated earlier that year. They had met two years ago in a low-level arts requirement. Octavia was a freshman trying to knock out her easier requirements, and Clarke was a transfer student finally getting to start the art courses she had transferred to Arkadia to take. Octavia struggled. It turned out, in college you had to actually draw well to get an A in your introductory drawing class. Octavia did not. But Clarke did. Octavia used to tell him all about the pre-med transfer student who was somehow also an art major that drew beautiful landscapes, and one of Octavia’s first real friends at school. A year later, they’d moved into this house off-campus together with a couple of other girls they knew. Now twenty-three, Clarke still liked a party, but she’d outgrown some of the excesses of her younger friends.

“Better your house than mine. I should never have let your friends move in.”

“My friends? Please, you love Monty and Jasper.”

“They’re alright,” he admitted, “but why the fuck did I let you idiots convince me to move Spacewalker in?”

“Because Murphy left, and Miller moved out, and you needed roommates.” She was right. When Octavia had started school, they agreed she could live on campus to have the full college experience he never got. But with room and board to pay for on top of her tuition, Bellamy couldn’t afford to live in their house on his own. He had two roommates in the beginning, but Miller had decided to be a “goddamn adult” and find a cheap place to live in on his own, and Murphy stormed out of town after a massive fight. Jasper and Monty had taken their rooms. Later, with O living safely a few blocks away, he rented out her old room to Finn to make a little extra money. Oh, how he wished he could take it back. He would pay money to be rid of that kid.

“No one needs roommates that bad,” Bellamy pointed out.

“If I could take it back, I would,” she said. Clarke hopped down off the dresser and flopped back onto the bed next to Bellamy. “He wasn’t always the worst,” she said, staring at the ceiling. Clarke had been the one pushing hardest for Finn to move in. Bellamy had never liked him, but Clarke did. She had vouched for him, and so had Octavia. Jasper and Monty had worked out, so even though he should have known better, Bellamy had agreed to let him move in. And if he had charged Finn a little more than the others for his room, well then who had to know.

Bellamy leaned back onto the bed. He turned onto his side to face her, and told her, “agree to disagree.” Clarke turned towards him and smiled half-heartedly. God, she was beautiful, he thought. Most of her wavy blonde hair was fanned out on the bed beneath her, but one strand had fallen over face, partially obscuring one eye. He was itching to reach out and brush it away. No, none of that. _Too far, Bellamy_, he told himself. They just looked at each other for a few moments. Bellamy didn’t really know what to say. Against his better judgment, he tucked that stray piece of hair behind her ear. If her breath happened to catch a little when he touched her, then Bellamy didn’t notice. He was too busy trying to make the gesture seem casual, not to spend too much time trailing his fingers across her face.

“Oh, fuck it,” Clarke almost whispered. Suddenly she was leaning in, and her lips were on his. They were definitely not in a good position for prolonged kissing, but that didn’t matter, because almost as suddenly, she was on top of him, and he was making out with Clarke Griffin. _Wait, what?_


	2. Chapter 2

_Hold on a second_, Clarke thought to herself. What are you doing? This was not the plan, if you could even call it a plan. Finn had broken away from Raven to come tell Clarke _once again_ that she was who he really wanted. He had thought when he moved to Arkadia that Raven understood it was over. They hadn't even visited each other in over a year, so it wasn’t really cheating, he had claimed. He wasn’t over Clarke. Well, she was sure as shit over him, and she was ready to prove it. She saw Bellamy, and the plan just took shape. Make sure Finn saw them sneak into her room, and make sure he saw them sneak out a little less put together than they were before. If Octavia or anyone else had a problem with it, she could explain in the morning. He wasn’t supposed to follow her to the door, she wasn’t supposed to get up on that dresser, to feel the muscles in Bellamy’s shoulders as she threw her arms around him. She wasn’t supposed to notice how good he looked tonight or how great his cologne smelled.

But then they were there, lying on her bed, and the man who had become one of her closest friends was brushing the hair out of her face. She knew she should resist the tug she felt through her whole body, pulling her towards him. She knew they should go back to the party. She didn’t care. _What harm could one time do?_ It was only Bellamy, after all. With him it didn’t have to mean anything. _Fuck it_, she had said to herself, and maybe out loud, and now she was on top of him, and they were kissing, and he was running his hands down her back, and- No. She needed a second. Clarke pulled back, still hovering over him.

“Clarke,” Bellamy breathed, resting one hand on her cheek, “do you want to stop?”

“No.” She should want to stop. This was Bellamy. He had a temper. He could be selfish. He was way too overprotective of Octavia. For a man whose philosophy sometimes amounted to “do whatever the hell we want”, he was pretty judgmental. He was impulsive. He was a womanizer. He was everything she wasn’t. But he was also smart and sweet, and kind of a nerd. He worked harder than anyone else she knew, except for herself. These days, he understood her better than anyone else. But most importantly, he was there. He was in her bed, all muscles and dark, tousled hair, and he was looking at her like she was all he wanted in the world. “No,” she repeated, “I don’t want to stop.”

Bellamy nodded. She was expecting his usual cocky grin. She thought he would raise one eyebrow and say “just couldn’t resist, huh Princess?” But he didn’t. He looked… _intense_ was the best word she could come up with, but still soft somehow. He cupped the back of her neck and pulled her gently back down, lifting his face ever so slightly to meet hers. She almost thought it would be better if he was being his usual annoying self. This was not what drunk, impulsive party hookups were supposed to look like, not that Clarke would really know, and not that either of them were really drunk. This was too sweet, too slow, and he definitely wasn’t supposed to be looking at her like that. This was too much. This would be hard to shake in the cold light of day. No, quick and dirty, that’s what she needed this to be.

Clarke quickly pulled off her sweater and then rolled Bellamy on top of her. Her hands roamed down his chest, under the hem of his shirt, tugging it up. He took a moment to pull it off, and then went right back to kissing her, on the lips, on the neck, trailing kisses down her stomach…

\-----------------

When they were done, Clarke didn’t waste any time. When you hook up with Bellamy Blake at a party, you don’t linger in bed. Practically the moment she and Bellamy separated, Clarke was out of bed and pulling on her clothes. Bellamy sat up, but didn’t move for his clothes yet.

“Is everything alright, Clarke?” he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

“Yeah, of course,” she said, pulling on her jeans, “we’ve just been gone a while. I should really get back to the party. I promised Harper we’d play a round of beer pong together.” Clarke was in fact terrible at beer pong, but the longer they were gone the more likely it was that someone other than Finn would start wondering where they were. Her desire to get out of the room was of course entirely to do with not being able to explain whatever this was to her friends, and definitely had nothing to do with needing to entirely avoid talking about or dealing with what had just happened. Even if she had wanted to talk about, she couldn’t have. Every part of Clarke’s brain was consumed by how terrible an idea this had been. There was no room left to figure out how she felt about it.

“Okaaaay,” Bellamy said, “do we need to-”

Clarke cut him off. “So, I’m going to go out first, because you don’t have pants on yet. Wait a couple of minutes before you come out?” Bellamy didn’t answer, but she didn’t really need him to. Clarke wasn’t even looking at him anymore. She was running a brush roughly through her hair and double checking herself in the mirror. She took one last brief moment to compose herself, then practically ran out of the room, and bumped right into Monty.

“Oh, hey Clarke,” he said, “there you are! Have you been hiding all night?”

“Uh, no. Pretty much just since Finn got here.”

“Fair enough. Hey, the line for the bathroom is insane. Can I use the one in your room?” Monty asked.

“Actually, Bellamy just went in there, so I would maybe give it a minute,” she said, raising her voice to a level she prayed Bellamy could hear. The door creaked open behind her, and out came Bellamy, fully dressed, thank god.

“No need,” he said, “Clarke, would you tell O I’m heading out if she asks?”

“Already?” Monty asked.

“Yeah, I’ve got to work in the morning, but I’ll see you at home,” Bellamy replied. “See you later, Clarke,” he added.

“Uh, yeah, see you around.” Clarke was a little taken aback by his sudden departure, but didn’t really know what else she was expecting to happen.

Clarke headed back to the party and found Octavia and Harper in the kitchen.

“There you are,” Octavia exclaimed when she saw her. “Stop avoiding Finn and start drinking,” she slurred, “you are too young and too pretty to let a guy like Finn ruin your night.”

Harper handed her a red cup with a shot, or more like two, of tequila. “She’s drunk, but she’s not wrong,” Harper said. “Fuck that guy,” she announced proudly, raising her cup. Clarke shrugged and looked at Octavia.

“Fuck that guy,” they chorused, then tipped back their shots.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, Clarke woke already filled with dread. Clarke didn’t even need Octavia’s constant encouragement to drink last night, though she certainly got it. Normally, she would drink tequila before making bad decisions, but last night doing it after had seemed good enough. She almost got drunk enough to convince herself that everything that happened with Bellamy had been a dream. Almost. The tequila wasn’t the only thing that Clarke was regretting.

_You idiot_, Clarke thought to herself. _You might have ruined everything._ It had taken Clarke and Bellamy months to warm up to each other after Octavia first introduced them. He thought she was just a spoiled princess, and she thought he was arrogant, rude, and impulsive. He of course, had been wrong. Clarke maintained that though her original assessment was incomplete, it was roughly accurate. Bellamy could still be all of those things, especially to the rest of the world, but he had warmed up to Clarke and the rest of their little gang. Over time they had become friends. Though she had never admitted it out loud, he had recently become her best friend, surpassing even her roommates. She loved Octavia and Harper, she really did. Clarke could talk to the two of them about almost anything. Even Monroe, who had gone home to her family just as the school year started, was always ready to pick up the phone if Clarke really needed it. Bellamy just had something no one else did. He got her. He understood the way that she thought and the things that she felt better than even Wells, her childhood friend, ever had. He was the only one who understood what it was like to make the hard decisions, the kind with consequences that touched other peoples’ lives.

But now things were weird. She had made a split-second decision that could ruin their occasionally tenuous friendship. Clarke still wasn’t entirely sure why she had done it. What she knew for sure was that it hadn’t meant anything. Bellamy was not exactly known for monogamy, and Clarke was still reeling from finding out about Raven. If she could just go a few days without seeing Bellamy, everything would be fine. They could just forget it had ever happened.

That should be easy given that last night Bellamy said he had to work in the morning, so there was no way he would be over for Hangover Brunch. A Saturday night party in their group was almost always followed by Hangover Brunch, a time-honored Sunday tradition where everyone gathered to eat breakfast burritos and help clean up the insane mess they had made the night before. After the “We’re Back, Bitches!” party of 2017 kicking off the new school year had left their house in shambles, Clarke and Harper had mandated that if Octavia wanted to throw “any more of these goddamn parties,” she had to bring in help cleaning up. The boys were willing to oblige so long as there was food. Bellamy didn’t generally help clean, given that he found even attending the party to be a chore. He did however, frequently show up to check in on Octavia and complain about the diminishing likelihood of the girls getting their security deposit back.

As Clarke made her way into the kitchen, she found Octavia already sitting at the kitchen table drinking a sugar-free gatorade, her hangover cure of choice.

“Morning,” Clarke grumbled as she poured herself a glass of iced coffee from the fridge.

“Hello, sunshine,” Octavia replied, “sleep well?”

“You know that I didn’t.”

“Well, drink up, because your morning’s about to get even better,” Octavia said. Clarke groaned. “Finn was telling anyone who would listen that you left the party last night to go fuck Bellamy.”

“What the hell?”

“Yeah, he made the mistake of practically shouting about it- to Raven, by the way, the dick- in front of Lincoln. Lincoln told him off, Finn left, and then Lincoln texted me about it this morning.” Octavia paused. “That was just Finn being an asshole, right? You didn’t sleep with my brother in the middle of my party?”

“Would it somehow be different if I told you I had sex with your brother after the party?”

“Clarke, just tell me you didn’t sleep with Bellamy.”

“Octavia, at this point I could make eye contact with Bellamy, and Finn would say I was fucking him. You can’t listen to him when he’s being an ass.” Clarke felt bad about being less than honest with her friend, but nothing she said had technically been untrue.

“Okay, my bad.” Clarke desperately needed to change the subject.

“Thank you for inviting him, by the way. That was lovely. I really liked having my jealous ex and his girlfriend in my home.”

“I didn’t invite him. He just showed up, but he must have told Raven they were invited. She thanked me for inviting her, Clarke. I couldn’t just kick her out. It’s not her fault her boyfriend’s an arrogant, cheating douche.”

“I guess not.”

Octavia knocked back the rest of her drink and tossed the bottle in the recycling bin.

“You’re supposed to rinse that first,” Clarke chided, but Octavia was already out of the room. She sighed and got up to retrieve the empty bottle.

“That was some impressive question dodging, Clarke.”

Clarke spun, dropping the bottle. There was Harper, leaning on the door frame to the kitchen.

“Harper, god. Don’t sneak up on people.” Clarke picked the bottle back up and brought it to the sink.

“Octavia may have been too drunk to notice that you and Bellamy both disappeared last night, but I wasn’t.”

“Bellamy went home.”

“Whatever you say, Clarke,” Harper said, moving to retrieve a glass from the cabinet, “he’s not my brother.”

The doorbell rang. Clarke tossed the bottle back into the recycling bin and headed for the front door. Lincoln was standing on the porch with a box of donuts. Lincoln was a relatively new addition to the group. Octavia had simply shown up with him one day, announced that they were dating, and told her friends she didn’t need their approval. Whether she needed it or not, Lincoln managed to earn approval from most of her friends. Her brother had a few things to say about his little sister dating a grad student, but a sharp look from Clarke usually got him to keep it to himself.

“Octavia said to bring ‘literally anything, who gives a shit,’ so I went with donuts,” Lincoln said with a shrug.

“Donuts are perfect,” Clarke replied, “come on in. Harper’s in the kitchen, and I think Octavia’s still in the shower.”

As Clarke was closing the door, she saw Monty and Jasper headed up the sidewalk, so she raised her hand to wave. Then she noticed Bellamy trailing a few steps behind them. Well, shit. No, this was fine. Clarke reminded herself that party cleanup was a group activity. As long as they didn’t end up alone, it didn’t have to be weird.

“Sorry we’re late,” Monty called. “But we come bearing gifts,” he added, waving two take-out bags from the gang’s favorite taco place.

“Don’t worry about it,” Clarke yelled back. “We just started telling you guys to be here like a half hour before we actually want you to show up.”

“How little faith you have in us, Clarke,” Jasper joked as they reached the front porch. She stepped aside to let them in.

As Bellamy passed, Clarke mumbled, low enough that only he could hear, “I thought you had to work.”

“Oh, because you’ve never lied to get out of a party early.” Bellamy looked past Clarke. “Great, Lincoln is here,” he remarked dryly, then headed to join the others in the kitchen. Clarke still couldn’t tell what she should make of Bellamy lying to leave the party immediately after The Incident, as she was now mentally referring to it. To be fair, she didn’t really want to hang around with him afterwards either, but a little part of her was offended that he had felt strongly enough to leave the entire party.

\----------

The gang sat for a while, and ate, and laughed about the events of the night before. So what if Clarke walked right by the empty seat next to Bellamy and instead sat between Octavia and Monty? And who would even have noticed if, entirely by chance, Clarke never looked at Bellamy the entire meal? Just as everyone was mentally preparing themselves to finally tackle the morning’s actual objective, the doorbell rang again.

“I’ll get it,” Harper sighed, lifting herself out of her chair.

About thirty seconds later, everyone could hear her voice carry in from the living room.

“Finn, you were beyond not invited.”

“I just need one minute to talk to Clarke.” By this time, everyone had shot up from the table and was coming to get a glimpse of the action.

“You’ve been saying that for the last week and a half. How many one minutes do you need to figure out that you’re never getting back together,” Octavia called from across the room. At that Finn barged past Harper and made a beeline for Clarke.

“He’s using you, Clarke,” he shouted, pointing at Bellamy.

“He’s really not.”

“He’s incapable of being in a relationship.”

“Oh, you mean like you were with Raven while you were dating Clarke?” Bellamy asked.

“At least I didn’t trick my little sister’s best friend into bed!”

“Not everyone lies to get people in bed. That one’s all you, Spacewalker.” With this, Bellamy started edging his way towards the arguing exes. When he tried to step between them, Clarke shot out a hand to stop him. She didn’t need anyone’s protection, certainly not from Finn. He reluctantly took a step back.

“You used to hate him, Clarke.”

“And I used to really like you. Things change.”

“He’s only sleeping with you because he knows it’ll bother me. He got what he wanted, and now he’s going to forget about you, just like every other girl he’s ever been with.”

“Okay, time to go” Bellamy said. This time, Clarke let Bellamy step between her and her ex-boyfriend.

“He’s not even denying it,” Finn shouted around the much taller Bellamy.

“Because I don’t engage with insane accusations. Now get out.”

“This isn’t your house, Bellamy.”

“No, it’s mine,” Clarke said, stepping around Bellamy so Finn could see her face and know that she meant what she said, “and I want you to leave.”

“Okay. I’ll go, but you watch, Clarke. He got what he wanted, and now he’s going to be done with you like he’s been done with every other girl.”

“Out. Now.” Bellamy put a hand on Finn’s shoulder. Finn shrugged it off and stomped out, slamming the door behind him. Nobody moved. A few moments passed in complete silence.

“I know Finn’s an asshole, and we’re all still mad about that, and he’s also crazy, but these two have definitely had sex, right?” Jasper asked, gesturing to Clarke and Bellamy.

“Oh, absolutely. She’s a terrible liar,” Harper said at the same time that Monty said “a hundred percent, I saw them coming out of her room last night.”

“For sure. They’ve been acting weird all morning,” Lincoln added.

“You liar!” Octavia practically yelled.

“I didn’t technically-” Clarke started to say. She sighed. “Okay, yeah I lied,” she admitted.

“So what, are you two dating now?”

“I- we- Hangover Brunch is supposed to be a judgment free zone!”

“Well, we don’t know what not to judge you for yet,” Jasper chimed in.

“I’m going to go lie down.” Clarke headed down the hallway to her room.

“Clarke, wait!” Jasper called out, but Clarke was not going to stop. She couldn’t deal with her friends right now. She didn’t know what to say. She barely understood what had happened herself, and she certainly didn’t know what would happen next.

“Bell, the thing with Finn just happened, what do you think you’re doing?” Clarke could hear Octavia ask.

As Clarke closed the door to her bedroom, Bellamy’s response floated down the hall. “Enough, O. Learn when to lay off.”

Clarke leaned her back against the door and sighed. What had she done? She had built herself a life here, a good one. When her father died, and everything that had happened in DC had happened, Clarke felt like she would never be whole again. But then she came to Arkadia. She started again, and now she had a job at a gallery, a group of amazing friends, and a safe harbor from her family’s drama. But suddenly, it felt like that was all falling apart. Clarke slid down the door and rested her head on her knees. If she had only had to deal with Bellamy, she could have figured something out. Crisis management had become something of a specialty for Clarke, but even she wasn’t talented enough to make this disappear once her entire group of friends found out.

There was a knock on the door.

“Go away.”

“It’s me.” Clarke thought about for for a moment, then stood. She opened the door to reveal Bellamy, hands in his pockets, eyebrows raised. Wordlessly, she stepped aside to let him in.

“What just happened out there?” he asked.

“I don’t know, okay? None of this was part of the plan! I couldn’t decide which was more embarrassing- admitting that we pretended to have sex to piss off my ex, or admitting that we actually had sex. And everyone was here just looking at me, and Finn was- well, you saw.”

“Yeah. Look, about last night-” Bellamy began, looking away and rubbing the back of his neck.

“It’s fine. I get it.” Bellamy froze. He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked Clarke in the eyes for the first time today.

“You get what?”

“It was a one-time thing. We don’t need to talk about it.” He was quiet for a moment.

“Okay,” he finally said, “is that what we tell the peanut gallery?”

“I don’t know!” Clarke collapsed into her desk chair. “I mean, I don’t really want Finn to go around thinking he was right.”

“And Octavia will kill me if she thinks I had a one-night stand with you while you were vulnerable.”

“Well, what do we do? We can’t fake date after we had real sex, can we?” There was a long pause as they both thought.

“I mean, I don’t think there are really set rules about this sort of thing,” Bellamy offered.

“What are you saying?”

‘I’m saying… maybe we finish what we started. Fake it for a couple of weeks. It ‘fizzles out,’ everything goes back to normal.” There was another excruciatingly long pause as Clarke thought it over. This seemed like a bad idea. It definitely was a bad idea, but then again so was literally every idea she had had the night before. Maybe this bad idea would be the one to dig her out of the hole.

“Okay, let’s do it.”

“You’re going to have to try to keep your hands off me this time though, Princess.”

“You weren’t exactly complaining last night.”

“When would I have had the time?” Clarke grabbed a pencil off the desk and threw it at him. He laughed.

Clarke would never admit it, but hearing him joke about it stung a little. In the more adversarial stages of their relationship, he had made certain comments, thrown out a few very thinly veiled innuendos. All of that had dropped away once they had started to become friends. Back then she had been able to keep up with witty retorts, but it was different now. Even by kissing him she had put too many cards on the table. It was better not to talk about last night at all, so Bellamy never noticed how not fine she was with it all.

“Okay, rule number one- no more cracks about last night. If anything, making fun of me for having sex with you is sort of a self-own.”

“Oh, so now there are rules.”

“So far just the one.”

“One works for me.”


End file.
